"What was that?" Normani asks as she sinks beside me on the bench outside the courtroom.

"Sorry," I mumble, running a hand through my hair.

The court is in recess, so I came outside to take a breather. Mr Lee hadn't asked much else of Officer Hartley, largely allowing her to tell her own stories about Camila's behaviour. He called a few more witnesses, people I've never met who didn't seem to have much to say that I didn't already know. Throughout, Camila grew antsier, but the bailiff's attention remained focused mostly on me. I grew uncomfortable under his gaze, which is why I've chosen to step out of the room until the trial is resumed.

"I've got this, Lauren—"

"Really?" I blurt, looking over to her, "Because she's being ripped to shreds and you're doing nothing to help her."

"I have a plan. You've got to trust me."

Sighing, I shift to slot my hands under my thighs. "Why aren't I a witness? Shouldn't I be speaking up, explaining why I diagnosed her, what it means?"

"I have the videos," she reminds me. "Plus, we don't need the jury to even suspect that you guys are... you know..." My eyes widen, and she smiles slightly. "You're not as good at hiding it as you think."

"I- We're not- I mean. I-"

She laughs quietly. "It's alright, Lauren, I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic myself. I won't tell anyone." Patting my knee, she pushes up from the seat, announcing, "Well, I better get back in there. You'll be pleased to know that it's our turn to speak."

I watch as she disappears back into the room, frowning as I reconsider her words, before following her and heading back to my place in the gallery. I notice her whispering something to Camila as I take my seat, but the room is full of the sounds of other people returning to the room or chattering quietly among themselves so I can't hear what she says. Camila nods, bringing her arms up onto the table, causing the chain connecting her wrists to her ankles to strain slightly. She seems more collected than before. I wonder briefly what had worked to calm her in the past five minutes our so.

The judge's gavel hits the block, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "Court is resumed. We shall now move onto the examination of the defence's witnesses and evidence. Go ahead, Ms Hamilton."

"Thank you, your honor." Normani nods politely, "I'd like to begin by calling my first witness, Miss Cabello herself, to the stand."

Camila slowly pushes up from her seat, shuffling towards the podium on the other side of the room. She struggles slightly to hop up onto the stool behind it but settles quickly once she makes it up, clasping her hands together on its surface. Behind the heavy wood, she looks frailer than ever. Her downcast eyes remain glued to the table.

"Miss Cabello," Normani prompts, her voice softer than when she spoke to the prosecutors, "What happened three years ago on August 21st?"

Camila lifts her gaze to the jury. A heavy silence fills the air before her meek voice shatters it. "My parents said they were tying up a loose end and told me that I had to go with them. Usually, I'd stay home because I was a liability, not trained enough, but this time they said it would be a lesson for me and Mr Ortiz. They said Roger had stolen from them, he owed them money and they wanted it back. I... I didn't have a choice, so I went with them. We went in the van and drove around until we found him—Roger, near his apartment. We found him on South Street and my father jumped out of the van to bring him inside. My mother drove us, but she came into the back of the van with us when we got Roger. I was scared, so scared. I never liked hurting people, never ever thought it was right, but it was something I had to do or I'd be hurt, killed even, no doubt about it. There was a struggle in the van while I had to restrain him and my parents started to, um, punish him. They were the ones who threatened him while I held him down." She frowns, looking back down to her hands. "He's younger than me, and I was young at the time, too. I felt so guilty, and I tried to stop them from hurting him. My dad, he..." she reaches up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, and I realise that my chest is burning with a need to breathe. "He hit me, bruised my eye. That's when I lost control. I was so afraid. My body acted before I could think. I grabbed the nearest thing to me, a hammer, and just hit them both—my parents, I mean—over and over again. I didn't want to kill them. I didn't even want to hurt them, not really. I just need them to stop." She takes a shaky breath and looks up to lock eyes with Mr Ortiz. "We needed them to stop. I did it to save myself and Roger, but I... I wish I didn't have to."

A collective inhale fills the room, almost as if we are breathing in all of the new information. For a moment, it's silent, Normani simply allowing it all to sink in. I notice a slight motion in Camila's hand, forming a slow figure eight; she's going to the beach. My eyebrows tent as I watch her eyes closely, hoping she might look up so that I can reassure her. She doesn't seem to dare.

"Did you know Mr Ortiz prior to the incident?"

"I'd seen him around a few times, heard how my parents were paying his rent. He was part of La Familia."

"You say your parents were going to use the incident as a lesson for you. Did they do this often?" Normani finally asks.

Camila nods. "They'd teach me a lot of things. They wanted me to take over their operations after they were gone. I have no... I just want a normal life. Um, they'd teach me how to cope in the worst of situations by putting me into them and use them as punishment whenever I showed a desire to do anything other than what they thought the perfect criminal would do. It was... abusive. Um, it happened a lot, yeah."

Normani nods. "Thank you, Miss Cabello." She keeps her voice soft, careful not to fracture the sorrowful atmosphere.

Of course, Mr Lee does so anyway. "You expect us to believe that you just 'lost control'? A normal citizen does not simply lose control and commit homicide."

"Mr Lee," The judge warns.

"It is a shoddy excuse, your honor!" He exclaims, turning to the jury. "If this criminal is capable of doing such a thing, she should spend her life secured, away from the rest of us, lest she 'lost control' and kill again."

What scares me most are not his words themselves, but the fact that the judge seems to be considering them, even as he once again warns Mr Lee not to interrupt him again.

"Should I... answer his question?" Camila asks, turning up to the judge who frowns at her for a moment before nodding. Her eyes scan the room as she begins to speak. "I did lose control. It's... hard to explain, but I can try." She pauses, continuing to skim the faces in the room. When she finds mine, my breath hitches. I nod subtly, and she continues, with a little more confidence, "I am diagnosed with PTSD, bipolar disorder, and borderline personality disorder. Sometimes, the symptoms kind of blur together, but they make me act in ways that the real me wouldn't. They make me erratic. They make my emotions control me more than my thoughts. Sometimes, when I'm really scared, I lash out because that's what I've been taught to do. Your parents taught you differently, I understand that, I wish I had that, but... I know what they did was wrong. I know what I did was wrong. I'm learning to be different." She clears her throat, turning back to the jury. "My psychologist, Doctor Jauregui, she's teaching me to be better. I'm getting better at controlling my symptoms. I don't want to hurt anyone."